After the whole debacle with the MOP, it was time for Uchronia to finally meet up with the MOD. Frankly, the whole situation had worn him down more than he cared to admit. Maybe being assaulted by Lapis had taken a much larger toll on him than expected.

Niwla sighed. Hopefully, the meeting with the MOD would go smoothly. However, judging by the Wooden Fence's past actions, it was highly unlikely.

Cor, he was starting to sound like Alwin—relying on hope, rather than coming up with a plan. What was going on with him?

"Are you okay?" Uchronia asked, cutting through his thoughts.

"I apologise if I have somehow worried you. I am currently reflecting on today's events. Fret not, I will still accompany you to the MOD's office."

"Is it about Gus? I get it. Don't get me wrong, I love Gus. But it's just that Gus is, you know… Gus."

"Gus is but one part of the equation. But you need not concern yourself with me. At the moment, you are of higher priority."

"Thanks, Alwin." Uchronia smiled.

Together, the two of them walked down the hallways of the Academy, passing down rows of crystal-lit arches. Ascending stairwell after stairwell, the bustle of students faded behind them as they reached one of the highest floors in the grand campus.

While the Ministers did have offices within the Academy, they rarely made use of them—it was more of a formality. Instead, they operated out of their own private spaces. Thus, the hallways that housed the offices of the Ministers were almost always empty and not as heavily guarded as one might expect.

Except, there appeared to be two monsters—apart from them—pounding away at the door which led to the MOD's office.

It was a certain Mourning Bell with dark tentacles squirming out of his shadow-black shell, accompanied by an ashened Powder Chimp crouching next to him.

"What are you doing here?" Uchronia asked, walking up to them.

"Hey, Uchronia." Bion winked. "After I saw what you did, I thought that maybe I could be the MOD's apprentice too."

"It's the same for me, pardner," said Flintlock. "Challenging the MOD to a Forge-off and an Enchant-off, then winning? Extraordinary! I'd never have the pluck to even think of doing that."

"I did. Except I had the brains to know that's a horrible idea," Bion added.

"Thanks, Flintlock. And Bion, are you calling me dumb?" Uchronia asked.

"You? Dumb? Never. You're the smartest girl in the whole wide world. And I'm the smartest guy." He winked a gleaming yellow eye that peeked out from under the bell.

"Whatever," she scoffed.

"Speaking of dumb," Bion said. "I bet the only reason the MOD lost was because of Al-loser here infecting him with his dumb disease."

Niwla simply stared at Bion, wings folded behind his back.

"What? Forgot how to talk? Is little Al-loser scared?"

"No. There is nothing worth discussing with you."

"Why you little—"

"Relax, pardner," Flintlock said, bringing his tail to Bion's face. "If you wanna fight, do it in the Sparring Room."

"Fine!" Bion spat.

"Al-loser. Sparring Room. Now."

"Actually, pardner. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to have a little go at you too."

"Perhaps at a future date. Uchronia has a conversation with the MOD and has requested that I be there."

"You? What good can you do? Uchronia, if you need support, you can always come to me. Not this Al-loser."

"His name is Alwin," Uchronia said. "One of the only two people in the class who actually cares about me. And need I remind you that you lost to him, again."

"Good job, Al-loser. You've infected Uchronia with your idiocy," Bion said.

Uchronia opened her mouth, about to dish out copious amounts of colorful language, when the door swung open. A gush of heat washed over them, while deafening clangs of metal made Niwla worry about any permanent hearing damage.

It was the MOD.

"What's all the ruckus in the hallway?" he said, looking down and spotting the Mourning Bell and Powder Chimp.

"MOD! I challenge you to a Forge-off!" Bion yelled. "If I win, you make me your apprentice."

"You're from Milvus' class. No. I have no business engaging in a Forge-off with some student. And I have no desire to take on apprentices. Buzz off and shut up."

Then he glanced up and spotted Uchronia and Nilwa, standing behind them. His fence gate flapped open in the equivalent of someone clicking their tongue.

"You two!" he yelled. "Get in my office. Now!"

"Yes, Minister," Uchronia said, quickly scuttling forward. "Excuse me, guys," she said to Bion and Flintlock.

The Mourning Bell stood steadfast, while the Powder Chimp stepped to the side, letting the Potted Sprout go. When Niwla attempted to walk in, Bion stuck out a dark tentacle, hoping to trip him.

Niwla didn't even flinch.

Unfortunately for the Mourning Bell, such mere trickery was something he had already accounted for. His gait had already been adjusted for such a scenario. He walked forward, stepping over the black tentacle as if it weren't even there—all while moving perfectly naturally.

As he entered the MOD's office, battling the swelling heat that poured out of the room and the thundering crashes that rustled his feathers, he could feel two sets of eyes burning the back of his bulbous head.

Both the MOD and Bion glared at him.

However, he could not care less about them.

Instead, he was more curious about the source of heat and noise.

As expected, the MOD had made a perfect recreation of the Forge-off and subsequent Enchant-off. Two lit forges on either side of the room, each fitted with a bellow that jutted out from its flank. Flames roared from their mouth, licking the Stone Hands that hovered before the opening of one of the forges, the other left unattended.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

A pair of anvils was set up near the center of the room. Sat on top of one was a cylindrical piece of chainmail.

The MOD had not only recreated the setup, but he was even reproducing the chainmail that Uchronia had forged—poorly formed links and all. And this wasn't his first attempt either.

Off to the edge of the room sat along an extremely long table were multiple versions of the twin pair of cylindrical chainmail. They glowed with enchantments. A perfect flower with various symbols on the petals was painted on one set. While the one next to it had a scrawled snowflake—that was, if it didn't have a hole punctured through it.

For every pair of chainmail, one was unscathed while the other had been desecrated in more ways than one. But all the way at the end of the long table sat the pair that stood out the most.

It was the only pair that didn't have a glowing flower of enchantments. The only pair where the chainmail of scraggly drawings stood strong, undamaged, while the one next to it resided in pieces within a glass jar.

The MOD hurriedly entered and slammed the door shut behind him. The moment he did, the burning temperature and ear-splitting clamor seemingly disappeared, despite the Stone Hands still tending to the forge.

How curious.

It seems like the room was enchanted to reduce the temperature and heat produced by the forging process. Something that was broken the moment the door was opened.

The MOD waddled in front of them, glaring at them both.

"G-good afternoon, Minister," Uchronia stuttered. "Thank you for the honor of learning under your tutelage."

"No," the MOD said.

"Excuse me?" Uchronia said, taken aback.

"I am not making you my apprentice."

"But you said—"

"I know what I said!" the Wooden Fence yelled, his fence gate flapping open and shut. "But that was before I realized what happened."

"Pray tell, Minister," Niwla said. "What happened?"

"You! Class clown! You cheated!"

"And where is this evidence of foul play?" Niwla asked.

"There!" the MOD shouted, his fence gate pointing at the chainmail sat within the glass—the one that he had destroyed using his Homing Ice Needles.

"The chainmail that couldn't stand up to a student's attack? That's your evidence."

"Yes. I've recreated everything. The chainmail. The way this plant forged it and even her enchantments. I've tested numerous conditions. And every time, the results were exactly as expected—hers struggled to withstand an attack while mine held flawlessly. The only variable I haven't been able to reproduce… is you."

"That evidence is circumstantial at best."

"It's a good thing you're here, then. I'm going to make you fess up."

"Now you're threatening students instead of simply accepting a prodigious student like Uchronia?"

"I don't give a fence if she's a prodigy or not. You cheated. I should've won the Forge-off and Enchant-off. So she shouldn't be my apprentice."

"Breaking a verbal contract, especially as a Minister, wouldn't be the best for your public image."

"You think I give a fence about my image?"

"Yes. Why else would you be upset that someone bested you?"

"You… you…." the MOD struggled to find his words. He shook in place, slowly turning a shade of maple red.

"Think about it. What's the point of being the Minister of Defense if you're willingly lowering the potential defense of Monsteria by refusing worthy apprentices? All of that knowledge and experience, just tossed away? For the betterment of Monsterkind, I beseech you: accept Uchronia as an apprentice."

"I don't give a fence about any of that. Admit that you cheated."

"If I do claim that I had 'cheated', would you willingly take Uchronia on as an apprentice?"

"No! Because I never lost the Forge-off and Enchant-off."

Niwla sighed. Logic was getting him nowhere. And without more information about the MOD's personality, he couldn't derive an outcome where he would willingly teach Uchronia the arts of forging and enchanting.

What a disgrace to the huge amount of computational power at his disposal.

However, if logic couldn't do the job, what about anti-logic?

Niwla turned inwards, searching for the slime that had been oddly quiet the entire time.

All the way at the other end of his enlarged mindscape, Niwla found the slime rolling and bouncing around a certain Ant.

When Alwin spotted him, he let out a silent gasp and rolled behind Winal.

"Winal? What's going on?"

Using his legs, he signed, "I've been keeping Alwin from disturbing you. I hope that I have been doing a good job."

"A great job as always. But how did you do it?"

"I offered him five cookies to not disturb you or make a sound."

Alwin peeked behind Winal, nodding enthusiastically.

"Well, I require Alwin's assistance."

The slime looked up at the ant, asking with his eyes alone.

Winal nodded.

"Yay! I did it! I got five cookies!" Alwin yelled. He jumped and did a front flip, then a back flip, then just no flip at all.

Rolling up to Niwla, he said, "Reporting for duty, ma'am. What can I do for you, good sir?"

"The MOD isn't responding to logic or facts. And I am unable to convince him to take on Uchronia as a student. He keeps accusing me of cheating and will not stop talking about the issue."

"I see. I see. But we didn't cheat."

"Exactly. The MOD refuses to listen to reason."

"And you can't use that big brain of yours to convince him, that's why you're coming to me?"

"Yes, Alwin. And yes, you are smarter than me. Plus, frankly, I'm quite tired of all the nonsense today. I require a break. Now, shall we go?"

"That's all you had to say."

There was a flash of light, and feathers receded. Their bulbous head grew larger and rounder, until body and head were one in the same—and also made of black and white jelly.

Alwin the Yin-Yang Slime was back!

"What?" the MOD shouted. "Since when could you do that? Was that how you cheated?"

"Since I was born. I did it in front of you earlier, too. And no, I did not cheat."

"What you did proves that you cheated!"

"Using a Core Skill? That just sounds like someone is a sore loser."

"Loser? I never lost! You cheated."

"Blah. Blah. Blah. Look, old man. If you want to see what cheating is really like, then I'll prove it to you."

"So you do admit you cheated!"

"Again, I did not. Not yet, at least."

"Then?!"

"Double or nothing."

"What?" the MOD said.

"What?" Uchronia echoed.

"Double or nothing. We have another Forge-off and Enchant-off."

"Why would I do that?"

"To show you what happens when I really do cheat. Also, because you only promised one apprenticeship when we need two."

"Two apprentices? Are you nuts?"

"Technically, it's one apprentice. You need to teach Uchronia forging and enchanting. Right now it's either or, not both."

"Again! Didn't count because you cheated!"

Man, no wonder Niwla was having trouble with the Wooden Fence. Talking to him was like talking to a brick wall—wooden fence in this case.

"Okay. Assuming I did cheat—"

"You did!"

"Rude. How about we just redo the Forge-off and Enchant-off? If you win—"

"I did win."

"You didn't let me finish."

"If you win again, I'll tell you how I cheated—"

"So you admit that you cheated!"

"Yes. Don't you want to know how I did it?"

"Yes! Tell me!"

"Nope."

"I am the Minister of Defence. I outrank you! I order you to tell me how you cheated!"

"La. La. La. Can't hear you."

"You stupid slime!"

Stone Hands appeared next to the Wooden Fence, socking Alwin right in the face. It was squished under the hard and rough hands, sending him flying back and smacking into the door.

He splintered through it, landing on something metallic and powdery that half cushioned his fall and half made it even more painful.

"Ah! Assault! I've been assaulted! The Minister assaulted a one-year-old baby! Help! Pool-ice! Milvus! Anyone!"

"Birches!" the Wooden Fence yelled. "Not again."

"Ah! He hit a baby!" Alwin yelled. "But if you accept Uchronia as an apprentice willingly, I'll let it slide."

"That won't be necessary," the Wooden Fence said, walking out of the room. "For the sake of Monsteria, it's better to get rid of potential kinks in the system that will harm our defences."

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